


Taken from the Top Shelf

by Dancains



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: AU where Oswald and Ed don't meet until season 3, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Library, Did I lowkey take inspiration from the Ed/Isabella plotline and make it nygmobblepot??, I swear there's a reason why Ed goes by his original last name, Librarian Ed Nygma, M/M, Oswald is still mayor, References to childhood bullying, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-04-16 05:38:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14157969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancains/pseuds/Dancains
Summary: "And this is relevant...because?""Oh! Excuse me, I'm a librarian.Theheadlibrarian, in fact. I've been expecting you." He pushed up the bridge of his glasses with his index finger, before extending his hand for a handshake. The oblivious smile on his face told Oswald that it was a position he was genuinely proud to hold."How do you do?" Oswald asked dryly, mostly to keep himself from snickering. He found himself surprised by how firm Ed's handshake was.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fun little AU I just quickly hashed out--there will probably be a few more installments. Rating will definitely progress above a G, haha.

Oswald tried to suppress a groan of indignation as he passed over the threshold of the Gotham City Public Library. The austere building didn't exactly hold fond memories for him. The last time he had passed through the same hallowed halls had been about two decades ago, for a school field trip. 

His mother had been happy to sign off for anything that was provided freely by the city, especially considering what their financial situation had been at the time, but Oswald was less than happy to find that the change of scenery had done little to stop his daily juvenile tormentors.

 As he shrugged his coat off of his shoulders and handed it off to Butch, he reminded himself that not only was he no longer the frightened child he once was, but that he was the mayor of the city and ruler of its (arguably) more important underbelly, while his childhood bullies were probably shining shoes in a subway terminal.

 He strolled into the main chamber of the building with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

 "Hmm, I would have expected more of a welcoming committee. No matter. Butch, go find whoever is in charge here, so they can direct me to wherever I'm supposed to read to these..." here the smile shifted in to a grimace, "...children."

 "Sure thing, boss," Butch grumbled, before heading off in the direction of what looked like a reference desk. He clearly wasn't any more enamored with their current locale than Oswald was.

 Oswald quietly observed the library, noting that nothing seemed to have changed in twenty years, before turning around and realizing that a man had been standing uncomfortably close to him.

 "Can I help you?" Oswald asked curtly.

 "Yes, yes you can. Or, I can help you, actually." The man took half a step back, but was still too close for Oswald's liking. "I'm Edward. Nashton. Or Ed, if you prefer. You could call me anything you want, I suppose-"

 "And this is relevant...because?"

 "Oh! Excuse me, I'm a librarian.The  _head_ librarian, in fact. I've been expecting you." He pushed up the bridge of his glasses with his index finger, before extending his hand for a handshake. The oblivious smile on his face told Oswald that it was a position he was genuinely proud to hold. 

 "How do you do?" Oswald asked dryly, mostly to keep himself from snickering. He found himself surprised by how firm Ed's handshake was. 

"I'm doing very well, thank you," Ed said in reply to what Oswald had meant as a rhetorical question. "The elementary school class is waiting in the children's wing, along with their teacher, of course, and a few members of the press. I invited them to browse the picture books while they waited. The children, I mean--not the photographers," he added, flustered.

 Oswald's lips quirked into a smile of their own accord. "Lead the way, then, Mr. Nashton."

 Ed guided him away through a labyrinth of tall, winding shelves. Oswald silently changed his stance that the place hadn't changed for twenty years--it probably hadn't for a hundred or so.

 "I must admit, Mister Mayor," Ed spoke to him over his shoulder as they rounded a corner, "that I've been following your career with great interest for some time now."

 Ed stopped suddenly, turning on his heel to face Oswald, who nearly collided with him. Oswald thought he heard a quick intake of breath, almost as if the man was smelling him.

"My career as a criminal?" he asked suspiciously. The legitimate aspects of his operations hadn't been running long.

Before Ed could reply, a middle-aged woman who must have been the elementary school teacher introduced herself and ushered Oswald towards the group of seated children.

 "So, what shall I be read for you all today?" He asked the class brightly, glancing at the teacher in hopes of a response. Instead, Ed appeared at his side, as if he had been trailing Oswald across the room, and handed him the book he had been carrying under his arm.

 "The Wind in the Willows," he informed Oswald, "by Kenneth Grahame."

 Oswald examined the leather bound volume dubiously. "Are you sure this is a children's book?"

 "Yes, it's a classic. Not to mention, an old personal favorite." He quirked his head to the side, nervously. The gesture was almost endearing.

The teacher seemed to have no objections, so Oswald settled in to the armchair that had been provided and began to read out loud. Cameras flashed as the handful of press gathered photographic evidence for their next second-page fluff piece, and eventually dispersed.

 Ed wandered off as well, and Oswald assumed he had other duties to attend to, until he came back a moment later carrying a wooden chair from a nearby desk. He sat down behind the gaggle of school children and seemed to listen to Oswald just as intently as they did, if not considerably more so. Butch found him as well, waiting with his arms crossed as he leant against a bookshelf.

 To Oswald's chagrin, the aging tome really was a story for young children, albeit an antiquated one. He narrated the life of a timid, glasses wearing mole who rarely left his home under the ground, but who eventually met and befriended a more world-weary rat that lived near a river. After that, they proceeded to go on delightful adventures together. Oswald thought to himself that it was sappy, sentimental nonsense, not unlike the things he had been forced to read for school so many years ago.

 As he continued, he kept glancing up and accidentally meeting the librarian's gaze from across the small crowd. Oswald had the passing thought that, despite his odd demeanor, he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes. Resolutely, he brought his own attention back to the page and kept it there. 

 Eventually, after a none-too-subtle glance at her watch, the teacher gestured for him to stop, and managed to extract a poorly rehearsed chant of "thank you, Mayor Cobblepot" from the class before they finally departed.

 None of the children had fallen asleep, so Oswald considered the event a success.

 He followed the librarian as he went to return his seat to its original place."Here, your book." Oswald pushed it towards him.

 Ed hesitated for just a second, before taking back the volume. "What did you think of it?" he asked pleasantly.

 Oswald chose his words carefully--he was a politician after all. "Well, I only read the first chapter or so, I can't really give much of an opinion."

 "Why don't you check it out then?"

 Oswald blinked. "I wouldn't want to possibly deprive someone else of the enjoyment of-"

 "I'm certain we have multiple copies in circulation. This is the city's biggest branch, by the way. Why don't I escort you to the check out desk?"

 Oswald nodded reluctantly, and gestured for Butch to follow.

Ed opened the front cover of the book and stamped the due-date card inside with a rubber stamp from a desk drawer. He passed it back to Oswald, their hands both lingering on it for a moment. 

 "I'll see you in three weeks, then," said Ed, with a bright, cryptic smile.

 "You will?" Oswald asked, quirking one brow. Butch shot Oswald a curious glance.

 "That's when the book's due," Ed informed him.

 " _Oh._ Of course." He felt a slight, imperceptible heat come across his face.

 As he left, Oswald was sure he wasn't imagining the weight of a heavy, pointed gaze following him out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm not really familiar with her work. Truthfully, I'm just browsing."
> 
> "Oh, well, I would certainly recommend that," he said, pointing. "Especially, if your tastes run a little more...unusual."
> 
> "I suppose you could say that they do," Oswald said without thinking. When he caught Ed's eye again, his expression was hard to decipher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess my only note for this chapter is that you should picture the computer as one of those big clunky ones from the 80's, haha.

As soon as Oswald returned home, the leather bound library book was dropped unceremoniously onto one of the side tables in the sitting room, and was left untouched, even gathering the faintest film of dust, until later that weekend. After his visit to the library, the rest of his week passed by in a blur, the long hours at both city hall and his various meetings with criminal underlings gradually tiring him.

 By Saturday evening, he was finally left alone with his thoughts, along with an ankle that smarted just a bit more than usual. After dinner, he settled into his favorite plush sofa with an ice pack for his leg, and a glass of red for his general peace of mind. He noticed something on the side table that usually wasn't in the room, and duly realized it was the book.

 His thoughts wandered back to the man who worked at the library and his odd, knowing smile. Oswald knew the man had taken a particular interest in him--he was sure he wasn't mistaken about that--but to what purpose he had no idea. He had a sneaking suspicion he was being toyed with, and by a sweater wearing librarian of all people. It didn't sit well with him.

 Almost as if in retaliation, he snatched the book up from the table and found the spot where he had left off before. Hours later, he was startled by the chimes of a grandfather clock striking midnight. His third glass of wine sat drained on the side table, and he had made it through about half of the book, which despite its appearance wasn't very long. 

 Although he would never admit it to anyone, as he became more enveloped in the story it became a relaxing escape from his earlier day, some of the character's humorous predicaments even bringing a small smile or chuckle to his lips. As the sound from the clock brought him back to his senses, he shut he book resolutely, and tucked it under his arm as he trudged upstairs to bed. 

 Over the course of the next week, he would think of the children's story at the oddest times, whether in meetings at town hall or whilst he and Butch showed a low level mob boss what the punishment was for missing out on two months of payments. Each thought of the book, in turn, brought a flash of memory of the librarian, with his glinting Clubmaster eyeglasses and the name tag pinned to his tweed jacket's lapel, seemingly shined within an inch of its life. Just the mental image of him left a strange taste in Oswald's mouth. 

 He finished the book over the course of the next few days, and planned to return it right away, possibly catching the librarian off-guard. He had expected to see Oswald in three weeks hadn't he? Or maybe he had simply been making reference to the due-date, and had no intentions of actually interacting again. He mulled it over in his head as he made his way up the building's steps, protecting himself from the pouring rain with an umbrella until he was shielded by the front of the building. Something by the door caught his eye--the book drop bin. Oswald realized that he didn't even need to step a foot inside to make a return. Something about this irked him, the petty childish part of him wanted to prove to the librarian that he had actually read the book. Though, just because he was returning this one didn't mean he couldn't check out another book. After all, it was a public library, he reasoned with himself. 

 He slipped the book in through the slot in the wall and made his way in through the front door. Regardless of his purposes, the warmth inside was a pleasant respite from the rain outside. He slipped his umbrella into the bin by the door, hoping that no one had the mind to steal it on their way out.

 Remembering where the children's wing had been from his previous visit, he decided to stroll in the opposite direction, to the left of the building's central staircase, so he could browse the shelves for an appropriate book to check out.

 The atmosphere was calm and pleasant as he weaved in and out of the various tall shelves, plucking out volumes that caught his eye and returning them when a quick inspection of their contents failed to pique his interest any further. He noticed the names of what he recognized as classics, but for the life of him didn't know if they were actually worth reading. Oswald didn't consider himself unintelligent, but he was well aware that any educational or literary pursuits of his had quickly fallen by the wayside the moment he had graduated East Gotham High and found himself climbing the lower rungs of organized crime.

 He was studying the back of a what appeared to be a horror story about a haunted house, when a movement caught his eye on the other side of the shelf, visible through a bookless gap. A man on the other side was returning books to it from a cart, but Oswald couldn't see his face. Unexpectedly, the man bent down the few inches to peer at Oswald through the gap.

 "Mayor Cobblepot, what a pleasant surprise." The familiar librarian grinned at him.

 Of course, thought Oswald. He did his best to look as if he hadn't been ruffled by the sudden greeting.

 "Mr. Nashton," Oswald replied coolly.

 "Oh, you remembered my name."

 "Well, you are wearing a name tag."

 Oswald saw Ed's smile falter by just the smallest increment. He considered it a small victory.

 "Are you a Shirley Jackson fan?" Ed asked him, looking at the book Oswald was still holding.

 "I'm not really familiar with her work. Truthfully, I'm just browsing."

 "Oh, well, I would certainly recommend that," he said, pointing. "Especially, if your tastes run a little more...unusual."

 "I suppose you could say that they do," Oswald said without thinking. When he caught Ed's eye again, his expression was hard to decipher.

 "I know you said you were browsing, but, please let me know if there's anything specific I could help you to find," Ed told him after a long moment of silence.

 "There is something I'm looking for."

 "Yes?" Ed asked breathily, trying to prompt him to elaborate.

 Oswald panicked internally for a second, trying to remember what he had planned to ask for.

"I recently acquired an estate on the outskirts of the city from my late father. From what I understand he was the last, or I suppose, I am the last of one of the city's older, prominent families--the Van Dahls. I was wondering if the library might possibly have some historical records or literature pertaining to the family, or even the estate itself and its history."

 Ed's eyes instantly lit up, clearly delighted by the challenge. "well, I can certainly help you with that! Most of our genealogical records are actually kept at our other branch, so you may need to take a separate trip there depending on how far your research goes, but there are some books here that I think would be helpful for you. If you'll just follow me..."

 Still carrying the book he had selected, Oswald walked in the same direction Ed had, now meeting him face to face at the end of the shelf. He thought he caught a quick glance of the librarian's eyes up and down his own figure, before he decided that the man was probably just noticing how prominent his limp was. Oswald did his best to hide a grimace.

 "Non-fiction and history is upstairs," Ed explained. "Right this way." 

 Oswald was surprised as Ed lead him not towards the large staircase, but away from it, to the back corner of the library where there was an elevator.

 "I would be perfectly fine using the stairs," Oswald protested weakly.

 "Oh, well, what we're looking for is right next to where we'll get out on the third floor," said Ed, as if that had been his only motivation. Part of Oswald was reluctantly grateful.

 The elevator itself was small, and seemingly old, with a vintage cage-like door. Ed slid it closed behind them after they had both stepped in. They ended up standing close, face to face in the tight compartment. The elevator gave an ominous creak as it ascended. It shuddered as they passed the second floor, causing Oswald to instinctively reach out the brace himself with his free hand, his open palm landing flat on Ed's chest. They finally came to a stop at their destination.

 "I'm sorry," Oswald said hurriedly, snatching his hand away.

 "That's perfectly fine." Ed stepped out of the elevator non-plussed. "We've actually been trying to get city funding to update some aspects of our facilities for a while now, to no avail."

 "It hadn't been brought to my attention. I can certainly put that on our agenda at city hall."

 "Oh, thank you." Ed beamed at him, as if Oswald had promised him some sort of a personal favor, instead of simply doing his job.

 "Of course...now those, um, history books..."

 "Yes! Over here..." Ed lead him towards the back wall of the building, scanning the call numbers on the books' spines. His eyes trailed up the shelf, finally spotting what he was looking for. "Bingo," he murmured to himself.

 Oswald watched as Ed slid the ladder that was attached to the shelf on a track closer to his objective, and carefully climbed the steps to reach the high shelf. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander up the sleek lines of Ed's legs, to where his trousers were especially snug in the seat of the pants. It wasn't his fault for staring, Oswald reasoned with himself, when the librarian's backside was directly in his line of vision. He tried not to remember the firm pectoral muscle he had felt under his hand during the elevator. Did most librarians hide such nice physiques under oatmeal colored sweaters and ugly tweed trousers?

 He quickly dropped his eyes to the floor as Ed began to descend, as if he was studying the pattern on the well worn carpet. Ed cleared his throat to get his attention.

 He presented the two volumes to Oswald. "A history of Gotham's first families, and a guide to Gothamite architecture of the 19th century." He flipped to the index in the back of the second book and ran his finger down the short list of keywords that began with 'V,' "Ah, it seems there's quite a few references to the Van Dahl estate." He handed them both to Oswald. "I hope this is helpful."

 "Very much so, thank you," Oswald answered, slightly flustered. He felt like Ed had one up on him again, without even consciously doing anything. "You know, the descriptions of Toad Hall, in that book I read for those children, actually reminded me a bit of my own home. I suppose that's what actually prompted this second visit."

 "Really?" Ed seemed to be taken by surprise. "Did you finish it? What did you think?"

 "Yes, I did. I have to admit, it was very amusing. It was nice to have some light reading to unwind at the end of the day," Oswald answered truthfully.

 "I'm glad to hear that."

 Oswald smiled shyly. "I suppose I'm ready to check these out." He jerked his chin towards the small stack in his arms.

 "Of course...Oh! You don't have a library card, do you?"

 "No, I..." Oswald hadn't even thought of that. "You let me check out that last book without one."

 "Well, you are the mayor, so I figured you wouldn't exactly be hard to track down if it was overdue. Still it's usually a formality. I have one of the machines that print them in my office."

 "Lead the way, then." 

 Ed flashed that infuriating smile again, the one that was slowly growing on Oswald despite his better instinct.

 They took a trip back down to the first floor in the aging elevator, this time without incident. Ed gestured for Oswald to sit down once they reached the office, seating himself on the other side of the desk behind a large computer.

 "Usually we have people fill out forms, and then the information is entered in the computer manually by a librarian for the card to be printed up. It'll be quicker if I do it directly for you."

 Oswald nodded. He complied as Ed asked him basic questions about his date of birth and address. He let his eyes wander, taking in the eclectic knick-knacks that decorated Ed's otherwise neatly organized desk.

 "What are these books?" He gesture to a pile at the edge of the desk.

 "Oh, just things I'm reading right now," said Ed, barely glancing up from what he was typing.

 Curiously, Oswald paged through the pile as he continued to answer Ed's queries. There was a research journal on forensic pathology, dated the month before, on top of a dog-eared book of riddles and puzzles, along with a copy of Truman Capote's  _In Cold Blood_. Underneath that, almost hidden away, was a smaller paperback that particularly caught Oswald's interest. 

 Checking that Ed was still distracted, the studied the two men on the cover, dressed in what appeared to be historical garb. A flush nearly came to his face as he flipped to a random page and was met with paragraph upon paragraph of explicit gay erotica.

 Well, that certainly put his interactions with the librarian in a completely different light.

 "And what did you say-" Ed's words halted the second he saw the book in Oswald's hands, his own going still on the keyboard. Oswald secretly delighted in watching him squirm, as Ed looked like he was desperately trying to figure out what to say.

 "Is this any good? What's it about?" Oswald asked innocently, as if he hadn't looked inside.

 "Uh, well it's...historical fiction, about, um, a country squire in Edwardian England who hires a secretary from the city, and...there's a lot of attention to historical detail."

 "Really? That sounds very interesting. But I suppose I couldn't check it out because you're still reading it."

 "I'm done with it," Ed blurted out. "I meant...actually I haven't even started it yet. So, um, that would be fine."

 Oswald knew a bold faced lie when he heard one. He smiled placidly. "Oh. Wonderful."

 "Is this home phone number correct?" Ed asked, before he could say anything else. Ed repeated the number back to him to confirm. Only a few moments later Ed had finished and Oswald's card was printed.

 "I suppose I'll check these out at the main desk, to save you some trouble. I'm sure you must have other things to attend to," Oswald said as they both stood up. "Thank you, once again. You've been such a help." He placed a friendly hand on Ed's arm.

 "It was absolutely no problem, Mister Mayor."

 "Call me Oswald," he gently corrected, letting his hand trail down the length of Ed's arm before turning sharply and departing without a backward glance. 

 The flustered expression he left on Ed's face stayed with him for the rest of the evening.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a shorter chapter, but this felt like a natural place to cut off...*shrug emoji*

That same evening, Oswald hurriedly finished the paperwork he had brought home from city hall, and, to Olga's dismay, quickly ate just a small portion of the elaborate dinner she had prepared, before readying himself to retire for the night. The stack of books he had checked out from Gotham City Public Library sat by his bed, but only one of them really held his interest.

 He settled in under the covers and picked up the romance novel to peruse. The mental image of Edward Nashton squirreled away in his private office, pouring over the lurid erotica with a lukewarm cup of coffee in hand was amusing, to say the least. 

 As he skimmed the first few chapters, he was found himself surprised by the quality of writing, which was at least a step above what he would have assumed such pulp would be written at. Ed's synopsis of it had certainly been accurate (and even in its brevity was more detailed than the vague blurb on the back cover, confirming Oswald's earlier suspicions).

 The story detailed the life of a country squire and his initial misfortunes, including the slow decline of the farms and properties that he owned, and the death of his wife due to illness--a woman, it seemed, that he had never truly been attracted to but had cared for like a sister. As he read, Oswald noted that they didn't appear to have had any children. The series of events had prompted this man to hire a personal secretary from the city to aid him in sorting out his financial affairs, who then came to live with him at the estate and became an increasingly close companion of his. Oswald could sense exactly where the narrative was headed. 

 Despite the formulaic build up, he found the subtle push and pull of their emerging relationship intriguing, including the clash of their old-world and new-world opinions on politics and philosophy. The author had evidently taken pains in representing the time period accurately, as Ed had commented. Eventually growing impatient at the slow burn of it, Oswald flipped forward a few chapters and skimmed until he found the middle of the first sex scene, then tracked backwards to the beginning of it. 

 Following his wife's death, Lord Havencroft had been experiencing night terrors that now regularly aroused his secretary Mr. Pryce from his slumber down the hall. Over time, Pryce began to join Havencroft in his bedchambers, simply to provide company in an attempt to ward off these nightmares. Now given the forced intimacy, the two of them found themselves venturing forward and taking the next step in their blossoming attraction. Oswald took a another swallow from the glass of wine on his bedside table. _Here we go,_ he thought to himself, _finally._  

 As the lithe, handsome Mr. Pryce daringly pressed hot, wet kisses to Lord Havencroft's collarbone, his fingers almost ripping apart the buttons of his night gown in an a attempt to expose more of the squire's tantalizing cream colored flesh, Oswald couldn't help but let his mind drift to Ed, and what a striking image he would paint, more striking than oh-so-dashing Mr. Pryce even, with his inhibitions stripped away. 

 He eagerly read through the rest of the chapter, only feeling slightly guilty as he began to imagine himself in Lord Havencroft's place. As Pryce began to enthusiastically fellate his partner, evidently having some practice of the act before, Oswald's mind treacherously turned to memories of the librarian's soft looking lips, now in his mind's eye no longer pulled into that devilish smile, but otherwise occupied. He was almost mortified by the juvenility of it all, when the tent in his trousers finally became too distracting and he had to tuck the book safely away into a bedside drawer, meanwhile retrieving a small bottle from the same place.

 His hand now properly slicked, he laid back and took his sweet, sweet time stroking himself to completion, the imagined events of the story still replaying in his head like grainy projected film. It was all over much more quickly than Oswald would have preferred. As he stared up at his bedroom ceiling in the near pitch-black darkness, he contemplated just how deeply this new infatuation of his ran, and how little he actually knew about the object of his affections.

   
Delicately, he cut into his fried egg and watched the runny yolk seep across the plate as he sat in contemplative silence at the breakfast table the next morning. He busy tearing off pieces of toast to dip in the egg when Butch arrived, ready for that day's nefarious agenda.

 "Ah, there you are! I have a very pressing task for you."

 Butch swiped a pre-peeled hard boiled egg from the abundant table spread. "Sure thing, Boss," he mumbled around a mouthful of it.

 Oswald suppressed an eye roll. "I need you to figure out who the best intel gatherer currently at our disposal is, and I need that person to figure out anything they can about a man named Edward Nashton that works at the public library downtown."

 "Was that the kinda beanpole lookin' guy who was chatting you up when we had to go to that boring book reading thing for those kids?"

 Oswald's eyebrows nearly shot to his hairline. "I-I wouldn't say he was chatting me up. And it's no business of yours who he is, just find that information for me!"

 Butch shrugged off Oswald's suddenly raised voice, already used to his employer's quick-fire temper. He buttered a piece of toast to take with him. "Yeah, yeah. You'll have that by tonight."

 

 Oswald made a point of bringing up funding for the public library during his scheduled city council board meeting that afternoon, just as he had promised Ed. He made mental notes of the specific council members who didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about this new deviation of the city's budget. Bribery or strong-arming would have to be used at some point, he decided, but he hadn't quite decided which yet.

 True to Butch's word, when he returned home from city hall that night, an innocuous looking file folder sat on the dining room table along with the still-warm pot roast Olga had set out before leaving for the evening. He fervently poured over its contents as the pot roast gradually grew cold beside him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been a little bit lower on my list of writing priorities but a few recent comments motivated me to churn out this last chapter. I hope this is an enjoyable conclusion :)

Oswald made himself comfortable in the plush leather arm chair, one leg crossed daintily over the other with that morning's edition of _The Gotham Gazette_ opened in front of him, obscuring his face from view. He had nearly forgotten that libraries carried newspapers and magazines in addition to books, displayed in their own section for easy perusal. How novel, he had thought to himself. 

Seated in an alcove on the building's second floor, he listened as a PA system somewhere above him announced to the library patrons that it would be closing in ten minutes, the bored librarian's voice accentuated by a crackle and hiss of the microphone. Unbothered by it, Oswald sat patiently, skimming the financial pages of the Gazette. The building's lights dimmed a few moments later. Oswald glanced at his pocket watch--eight PM on the dot. He returned his attention to the newspaper, making no move to leave.

It didn't take much longer for him to hear what he had been waiting for.

"Excuse me, sir," came a familiar voice, "The library's actually closed now, so I'll have to ask you to-"

Oswald lowered the paper, the sight of his face stopping Ed in his tracks. 

"Mister Mayor? I mean, _Oswald._ " A shy fondness colored his voice.

"Good evening, Mister Nashton," Oswald replied evenly. "Or, should I say Mister Nygma?"

Ed's eyebrows both peaked in one smooth motion. "Excuse me?"

Oswald gestured to the seat directly across from him. "Why don't you join me?"

Ed dutifully obeyed, not only surprise written across his features, but something like excitement as well.

Oswald folded the newspaper, neatly setting it aside. "You know, I've been doing a little research on you."

"Is that so?" Ed leaned forward intently. They were close enough that Oswald could smell his aftershave, and a trace of mint on his warm breath.

"Well, you can't be too careful about who you have working for the city, now can you?"

"That is certainly true."

"But apparently this isn't the first time you've worked on his city's payroll. You used to work for the GCPD, if I'm not mistaken--which I know I'm not. That is, before they put you away in Arkham for murder, another attempted murder, evidence tampering, and a laundry list of other related minor charges. Funny, how we have that experience in common, although your entire stay began and ended long before my own. 

"In just over six months you were released--part of Dr. Hugo Strange's controversial "civilian rehabilitation" program, apparently the very first of a select few,' Oswald continued, "It was the same program that allows me to be sitting here in front of you today. And from what it seems, you've taken the initiative to heart, not only taking on a new identity and career but doing it successfully, rising to the position of head librarian in a matter of years."

The smile that had already been plastered across Ed's face seemed to grow even impossibly wider. Something in the white sharpness of his teeth made him look carnivorous, an appetite to match Oswald's own.

"Hmm. You've certainly done your reading. And you can see why a man in my field would appreciate that." Any venom that might have graced his expression had faded, shifting back into the quirky grin befitting of an eccentric librarian. "Now tell me, why did you come all the way here to tell me all this about myself?"

Despite how calm Ed looked, Oswald could see the quick rise and fall of his chest under the snug olive-colored sweater. His tongue swiped across his lips in anticipation. Somewhere below them, in another part of the library, a lock clicked in a door latch. They might have been the only two people left in the building.

It was Oswald's turn to be coy. "Well, knowing what I know now...it might explain why you seem to have taken a particular interest in me."

"Oh? Explain."

"Clearly, you want a job."

"I-" Ed seemed genuinely taken aback. "I want...a job?"

"You've been lying low, doing what you've been told to do. But at the same time you've been growling restless. Once you've had cold steel in your hand and warm blood under your nails, checking out library books to school children doesn't quite give you the same rush. And who else to turn to but the man you suspect controls the city's immense criminal underworld."

Ed had to audacity not only to shake his head but to laugh. It was the first time Oswald had heard the pleasant, rumbling noise. "I see you've put some serious thought to this...Oswald." It sounded as if he was still tasting the given name on his tongue, like a hitherto forbidden flavor. "But I'm actually perfectly satisfied in my current choice of career. More so than I ever imagined I would be."

"Is that so?"

Ed nodded, thought it looked as if he was still holding something back.

"You know what they say about exploring all of your possible options before coming to an important decision."

"I'm sure I did. Like I've just said--for the time being--I'm perfectly satisfied working at the library. Though I do appreciate your offer."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about _you_ exploring your options. I was talking about myself--before I did this."

Putting a steadying hand on Ed's knee, Oswald confidently brought his face close to Ed's. Besides taking a sharp gasp of breath, the librarian didn't pull away or do anything to avert the oncoming clash of their lips. His eyes fluttered shut as Oswald kissed him, hungry and searching and soon finding that same ardent hunger in return.

Oswald felt like a spark had been lit. It had been far, far too long since he had done anything remotely like this, and his past few weeks of fantasizing about this exact scenario had seemed to prime him for the sudden arousal that was blooming deep in the pit of him. He was the one to first pull away for air, albeit reluctantly, casually putting a hand to Ed's chest to check that Ed's heartbeat was pulsing the same way his own was, or maybe just to get a better feel of the sinewy muscle he had first brushed against in the library's elevator.

Ed used one hand to adjust his now-crooked glasses, that same maddening all-too-many teeth smile making another reappearance on his face. He tentatively reached out with the other to swipe at a long wisp of Oswald's hair that had gone astray, falling in between his eyes.

"Could we-" Ed ventured, for the first time Oswald could recall seeming to struggle for the right words, "could we maybe continue this...conversation...some place else. We _really are_ not supposed to be here. A custodian's probably going to start vacuuming soon."

"Oh." _There go all of my 'sex in a library after closing hours with a hot, geeky librarian' fantasies,_ Oswald mentally bemoaned, trying to keep the disappointment from his face.

"Well, that mansion I mentioned living in...it is awful empty living there alone. And rather cold at night, too. It would be nice to finally have some company." He dragged a finger up Ed's thigh, driving home his more than obvious intentions.

"Oh," said Ed, his ears already going pink. He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I was actually thinking of a little cafe that's quite close to here. It's open all hours. Perhaps we could get some coffee, or cocoa, and just chat. Get a little better acquainted...and see where that takes us."

Oswald couldn't help but find Ed's sudden shyness excruciatingly endearing; maybe he had been moving a little too fast. He brought his hand back to his own knee. "I'd be delighted to accompany you."

"Great!" Ed's face lit up, already rising to his feet and offering a hand to help Oswald as well. "You can tell me what you thought of _Mr. Pryce and the Country Gentleman_ over coffee. Personally, I have a lot of opinions on some of the syntax the author chose to use-"

Oswald let out a bubble of sharp laughter. "I thought you said you hadn't even started it."

Ed leveled him a sharp look. "What would the mayor say if he knew Gotham's head librarian was wasting time at work reading cheap gay smut novels?" Whilst talking, they made their way, side by side, to the library's sole elevator.

"I think he'd ask the head librarian whether that same author had written any more of these 'cheap gay smut novels,'" Oswald smirked. He realized then how delightfully easy and satisfying it was to make Ed laugh.

They rode the elevator downstairs in a comfortable silence, still exchanging shy, mischievous grins with one another.

Oswald was glad that his umbrella was still safely in the umbrella bin near the door. It had been raining when he had arrived and from the sounds of it there was still a light patter continuing outside. He opened it as Ed fished a large ring of keys out of his pocket to unlock and lock the front door behind them.

"I do have to ask," said Oswald, as they stepped out and he sheltered them both from the gentle downpour, "If it wasn't what I do that initially...piqued your interest, than what was it?"

"Well that certainly part of it, your reputation..." Ed countered, "More than that, you just seemed so... _interesting._ Clever, and witty, but guarded. And you know I'm always fascinated by the idea of finding out what lies beneath a unique book's cover."

Oswald gave him an melodramatic eye roll, though still pleased by the compliments. "You know, I've made people disappear for making better puns than that." He extended a bent arm, to link with Ed's own. "Now, which way to that cafe?"

Ed chuckled mirthfully again, linking them together so they were snug side-by-side under the umbrella's protection. "Follow me."


End file.
